


Feed a cold, starve a fever.

by LilyIsMilesAway



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyIsMilesAway/pseuds/LilyIsMilesAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Éponine is sick and Enjolras has to make up for his bad behaviour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hiyas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyas/gifts).



> This is for Hiyas, who helped be build the headcanons for it as we were both suffering for a bad cold. Thanks to her for the beta’ing as well
> 
> This is total self-indulgence, but since we’ve proved it cures bad cold, I’m sharing it.

Éponine was feeling so bad, so sick, coughing so much her neighbour had already banged on the wall twice. Another thunderbolt. Catching a cold in the middle of the summer was the worst thing ever. She wanted to wrap herself in her blankets with liters of the hottest tea, but it was like 100 °C outside. She kicked her duvet and opened the window just enough to get some air without getting any rain in her flat.

She was almost back in her bed when she heard the doorbell. It was past 10pm, who could that be? Marius, maybe? After all, he lived on the other side of the hallway, and he knew she was sick. That wasn’t so crazy an idea.

But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Marius. Far from it, in fact. From the only person she wanted to see, it went to the person she hated the most. At the moment at least. Nobody deserved the amount of hate she felt for her parents.

“What are you doing here?”

“Making amends. I was told by people much more sensible than I am that I had been a ‘fucking arsehole’ to you, so here I am. May I come in?» Seeing that she wasn’t moving, he showed the grocery bag he had under his arm. «I can make soup. My grandmother’s recipe…» She still wasn’t letting him come in. «Please, I’ve been appointed to your exclusive service until you get better. If I come back to the flat too early, they’ll make me sleep on the doorstep. I am not fond of this arrangement, but I have no choice. And I’ve got camphor balm and cough syrup too.”

For such a fierce guy, he was fucking good with puppy eyes. Plus she hadn’t eaten anything since noon, and she had run out of syrup one hour before, so…

“OK.” She just goes back in her bed, on the furthest end of her studio. “Wake me up when it’s done.”

She didn’t know how long she slept, but it didn’t seem like much. She had been half-awake, half-asleep the whole time. Enjolras in her flat wasn’t something that made her sleep carefree.

Instead of sitting at the table, she went to the sofa and switched her tiny telly on, making it clear that she wasn’t willing to talk with him. There was a pretty agreeable smell coming from the bowls Enjolras had in his hands, but it wasn’t enough to make up for the way he had treated her at their stupid meeting earlier that evening. Yeah, she was sick and it involved a lot of coughing and sneezing, but for Enjolras The Great, the superhuman who had certainly never been sick since chickenpox when he was like three… What was she saying?! Rich boy got a personal physician or whatever privileged people had. Anyway, he had been a rude arsehole calling her out and making her leave. She had made the effort to come, after a whole day of working with an A/C that had worsen her cold every hour. She hated summer, A/C and all of this shit! She always ended getting sick half the season. But in winter, when you were _supposed_ to catch a cold, nothing. Ever!

After two bowls of a soup that was way too good for her liking, « You can go now. »

“I’ll just do the dishes and then, I’ll leave. Hoping my punishment will be enough for Combeferre and Courfeyrac,” he sighed.

“You know, you shouldn’t complain. Without them, you wouldn’t be even half human.”

He didn’t answer, walking right to the kitchen. She headed to the bathroom with the tube of camphor balm.

Once her tee shirt removed, her throat and chest thoroughly rubbed and a few contortions to reached her bad, she resolved to call Enjolras. It didn’t rejoice her, but after all, wasn’t he here at her service.

And he hadn’t suffered enough for her taste.

Ten seconds after she had called him, he appeared, a tea towel in his hand. She could see him, as she was facing the wall, hoping for a minimum of decency, but she could hear his gasp.

“Can you rub my back? I can’t reach it.”

As he hesitated, she reminded him. “Or I could just call Combeferre.”

He grunted – Nobody wants to deal with an angry Combeferre – and reluctantly took the tube on the sink.

They were placed strategically for her to see his face, and its quite interesting shade of red was worth all the colds she had ever had in her life.

It took him a long minute and a few heavy breaths to dare touch her. His fingers were so light on her skin that it made her shiver. She tried to persuade herself it was only the fear, or the fact that she was half naked, but it had certainly all to do with him. She had tried to close her eyes and focus on something else, but it revealed itself being much worst. And it got even worse when she caught his eye as his fingers follow her spin and go far too low for the camphor to be actually efficient.

“I’m not made of sugar, you know!” she said a bit too rudely, but she was too close to lose her mind to care. “You’re supposed to _rub_ my back, not tickle me.”

He grunted, gave her another look through the mirror. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who enjoy it too much… Then his hands went back to her shoulder blades for a last and more vigorous rub.

He had barely removed his hands but she already missed it.

He cleared his throat. “Maybe you would want to put some on your feet too. My nanny used to do it, then put woollen socks on. I remember it being quite comforting, if not effective.”

Then he disappeared. She could bet he had never been more eager to do the dishes in his life.

When she came back in the main room, he was done, putting the last cup in the cupboard. She didn’t dare coming too close, but she could see that he had actually the two days worth of dishes that was waiting in her sink.

She sat on her bed. “Thank you. Maybe you’re more human than you look after all,” she said with a smile, which had an immediate effect of making the red come back on his face. Yep, very human…

“Do you need anything else, » he asked, hesitantly. “A cup of tea, anything?”

“No, thank you.”

So, he took his bag next to the door and went to go out.

“But you can come tomorrow. I have loads of laundry to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

December. The semester had ended the day before, and the snow had started to fall the same morning, but it didn’t stop Éponine from running in the street. When she arrived at the right door, she rang the bell as she wanted to wake up the dead. When at last the interphone crackled, she yelled, “It’s Éponine, open the door for me!”

A buzz sounded and she ran up to the second floor. The door was open as if it was waiting for her, just like the man sitting on the sofa.

“You look like shit! No wonder why you weren’t at the soup kitchen this morning,” she said half-smiling, half upset that he stood her up. « But no worries, I called Bahorel and we managed like bosses!”

She heard something that sounded like a "fuck you" but wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like Enjolras to curse.

“No, seriously,» she said as she removed her scarf, cap and coat. "I thought you were dead. I called Courf’ and ‘Ferre. They said you were fine when they left for their parents’ last night. Do you know that the only time you had ever missed a meeting was that time you were in jail?"

A grunt. The guy didn’t even have the strength to tell her to piss off. That was worrying.

“Ok, have you taken anything fro this?”

“No. Too bad to go to the chemist.”

“OK.” She put her coat back on. "Go back to bed, I’ll be back in half an hour.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see him collapse on the sofa. Before leaving, she took the time to go to his room and bring the duvet to cover him.

It was Saturday and the shops were packed, so her half-hour quickly became a whole hour and when she came back, Enjolras was fast asleep, in the most uncomfortable position, half hanging from the sofa. She tried to push him back on the sofa without waking him and miraculously managed to do so without much reaction more than a grunt. She started busying herself, putting the groceries in the fridge and cupboards, doing the dishes, etc. But it didn’t take much time, as the flat was spotless. Quite unexpected for a flat shared by three guys, but she had heard that it wasn’t ‘Ferre’s medical training or Enjolras’ control-freakiness, but Courf’s pernickety that he had to thank for it.

She sat on the armchair next to the window, waiting for the invalid to wake up, picking up one of the newspapers on the coffee table. But the _Courrier international_ quickly bored her and the snoring coming from the sofa was driving her crazy. So, not so subtly she switched the telly on, found the most obnoxious show, and progressively turned the sound up until Enjolras opened his eyes, glaring at her. She smiled innocently at him, internally thankful that glares couldn’t kill. But it was only payback for making her wake up so early on her only Saturday off in months and not even showing up.

“Do you want something?” she asked cheerfully. “I’ve bought pineapple juice. I have nose drops and throat lozenges too. But cough syrup is not ready yet.”

“Ready?” he managed to asked, hoarsely.

“Yeah, it’s an old recipe. Turnip and Candi sugar. Really useful when you’re too poor to buy cough syrup at the chemist. Plus, it’s delicious… I’ll show you.”

He laboriously sat up and cleared his throat. “I’d love some juice, since you offered it so nicely.”

Some time later, she convinced him to go take a bath, despite it being "horrifyingly environmentally irresponsible", while she took care of supper. Meaning: empty a carton of ready-made soup in the pan and slice some old bread into cubes. She had sworn she would nick his grandma’s miraculous chicken soup recipe, but hadn’t succeeded yet. Too bad, he looked like he could use some right now.

She pretended not to look when he crossed the hallway with nothing but a towel, and only reminded him to dry his hair thoroughly if he didn’t want to get sicker.

When he came back, the table was set. Éponine was making all the conversation, joking about random stuff, until he stopped her with a mischievous smile that was quite unusual coming from him. “Before you leave for the night, don’t forget to rub my back.”

She almost choked on her spoonful of soup. That was low, very well played, but really low. She had been a very bad influence on him. Six months prior, he wouldn’t have dared to utter that kind of joke. They were definitely spending too much time together lately.

She didn’t answer, though, too busy remembering that muscular back she caught sight of less than an hour before. She picked up the camphor balm from the bag anyway, and followed him in his room.

It was as nice to touch as it was to look at, and she felt no guilt taking all her time, as he did six months before.

Then she left him, cleaned her hands, and got her stuff back. But she could hear him from his room, grumbling about God knows what. She was already at the door, but didn’t resist the urge to go and check on him.

“What is it again?” she asked, falsely annoyed.

“I hate being sick, that’s all! I’m totally useless. It annoys me.”

She couldn’t be sure, because his duvet was high up his chin, but it looked like he was sulking. Like a five-year-old.

“And I’m cold,” he added, so low she barely heard him.

“OK, do you have any hot bottle, or an extra blanket?”

“No, and no.”

Knowing him, turning up the heating was out of question, and he would most certainly suffocate if she’d give him ‘Ferre or ‘Courf’s duvet. But…

“Oh, fuck it!” After all, the heating in her building wasn’t working so well.

She let her bag fall on the floor, her coat and scarf, as well, leaving a trail of clothes as she went around the bed, careful slipped under the duvet and spooned him.

“I’ll be your personal hot bottle for the weekend.”

He didn’t say a thing but it was obvious he was initially uncomfortable. She felt him slowly easing up, and at some point, she could swear he had fallen asleep. And she wonder how she could be able to, as well, mesmerised as she was by the scent of shampoo and camphor coming from him. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, embracing him more tightly and even daring to entangle their legs.

“Are you… are you naked?”

She immediately moved away from him. “Of course not! But have you ever tried to sleep with your jeans on? It’s fucking uncomfortable! Now sleep, dumbass!”


	3. Chapter 3

“Gavroche, breakfast!” yelled Éponine for the third time that morning. Their flat wasn’t so big that he didn’t hear her. Also, he was a morning person, unlike her.

She went to his room, almost ready to see he has flown during the night. It was her biggest fear, him leaving her, like he would sometimes do before **.** He’d always come back, but what if he didn’t this time? What if he actually hated her more than their parents? He was a free kid, and she had set a lot of rules than their parents had squarely ignored all their childhood. He was a smart kid and had agreed to those rules, but you’d never know…

He was still hidden under his duvet, and when she opened the blinds, he grunted.

“Hey! You’re too young to be a lazy teenager!”

“I don’t want to go to school… I feel like shi–”

“Gavroche!”

This was new. One thing he would always do is going to school, which was king of unexpected coming from a kid like him. But ever since he had met the Amis, way before she had met them, he decided he wanted to be a student, to be just like them. The subject would change weekly if not daily, but he had stuck with going to school since he had been told that he had to get excellent grades to go to Uni. He was six at the time. And she had done everything in her power to make sure he had everything to achieve his goal, from accompanying him to the public library to giving him money and prepare sandwiches for field trips to the zoo.

With a hoarse voice, he rephrased it, “I think I’m sick.”

She immediately sat on the bed, and checked his forehead, like her mother would do when she still loved her children more than money. He was burning hot.

“You must have a bad cold. I’m calling ‘Ferre and Joly to see if one of them can see you this morning. You, you go take a hot bath. I’ll prepare the sofa, so you can watch some cartoons during the day.”

While cleaning the breakfast table, cursing to the Gods for making him it happen on the day she couldn’t miss work at all, she managed to call the school, catch Combeferre, who was just out of a night’s duty. He was ready to babysit for the day if she had somewhere for him to take a nap. The night had been quiet but he wouldn’t mind some rest if he could. She quickly changed her own bed sheets, and, as she was on the verge of being late she heard the doorbell. She thanked the Gods for helpful friends living ten minutes away.

At work, she regularly spammed Enjolras with messages to get his secret magic soup recipe. Since the first time she had tasted it, he had selfishly kept the recipe all to himself. Well, not so selfishly, since one phone call had been enough to make him come and take care of her when she fell sick last February. She also wanted to spam ‘Ferre too and ask him how her brother was, but if she couldn’t trust a doctor to take care of a cold, she couldn’t trust anyone.

 

The day had been a long one, and while she couldn’t blame Gavroche for his bad timing, it was with a lot of relief that she came home.

To be welcomed by the most heart-warming smell in the universe.

“You mother didn’t tell you it was rude not to answer texts?”

“She most certainly did. But was I listening? That part is absolutely doubtful,” smiled the man, shirt-sleeved, leaning over a steaming pan.

She came in, giving him a peck as a hello and stayed close trying to get a good look at the content of the pan.

“What did you do to ‘Ferre? Where have you hidden the body?”

“He had to leave, work emergency. Or so he says… Sometimes, especially when he’s in love, he can be the worst liar. Anyhow, he called me and here I am, the Thénardier family’s own home nurse.”

“Right, be nice or next time _you_ are sick, I’ll let you rot all alone,” she threatened him, stealing the wooden spoon and stealing a taste of the soup.

He smiled. “Go see if you’re brother’s awake, supper is almost ready.”

During supper, Gavroche was understandably not his usual chatty self, but the atmosphere was still nice and enjoyable. As soon as he had emptied his bowl, he went straight to bed.

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Éponine reminded him, as she stood up to clean the table.

Enjolras cleared his throat, “I brought my speech for the homeless shelter opening, so maybe you could help me make it more relatable. I won’t keep you up all night, I know you had a long day at work today. But it’s still early, and I hope that we could work a little bit on it.”

They did the dishes in silence, and then they settled on the sofa to work. He got his notepad out of his bag –his old Uni messenger bag–, and began rolling his sleeves up, removing his tie and opening the top buttons. Éponine had to confess, Enjolras looking relaxed and more casual was kind her Kryptonite. But she managed to carry the two cups of coffee to the living room without any mishap.

As soon as Enjolras had taken a sip of his coffee, he grimaced. “I’m getting you a decent coffee maker, next Christmas.”

Éponine didn’t say anything. She knew that he knew well enough what she thought of his way too generous birthday and Christmas gifts but she had never been able to convince him not to spend so much on his gifts to her. “OK, then, show me what your heartless robot’s brain had made you write!”

 

When Éponine woke up, she was felt like she had been run over by a bus. She gave a look at the stereo system, a few bars were missing on the digital clock, but she could clearly read 2:51 am. Or was it 2:57?

She tried to sit up but one arm hold her down. “No… Stay here. I’m cold now…”

She was actually on top of Enjolras, and now that her eyes had gotten used to the bright light, she realised that the colour of what was all over her friend’s sleepy face matched the one of her lipstick.

This was awkward. And as her brain was starting to work again, she remembered. They had worked on his speech until it was good enough for Enjolras’ perfectionism, then they chatted a bit, too comfortable to move from the sofa. And then he had lazily kissed her. She had imagined kissing him before, but the reality was different. She had always thought that Enjolras would be the perfect passionate kisser, the one who would ravage your face almost to the point of asphyxiation. No. They just unhurriedly shared sweet kisses until they both fell asleep.

And now, she was on top of him, absolutely embarrassed.

“Enjolras, wake up. I think you would be better sleeping in an actual bed.”

“Your bed?” he asked with his eyes barely opened and his lips forming a sly grin.

Oh, shit!

“But if you wake my brother, I kick your sexy arse out of the flat!”


	4. Épilogue

When Éponine woke up in the morning, it wasn’t because the alarm had gone off, but because someone else’s hand was making is way down her belly into her knickers.

She didn’t make a move and kept her eyes closed, even if it was slowly but surely getting hard to say impassive. She was about to give in when the door creaked.

“ _Papââââ_ ,” said a little tired voice. “I feel sick. Can I have magic soup?”

It was hard not to laugh, imagining their daughter looking at her father with her puppy brown eyes, and him stuck in a slightly uncomfortable position but unable to resist.

“Come here, _ma puce_ , and let me see.”

She felt the mattress shifting a bit and the hand going back up to her belly. She opened her eyes just enough to see what was happening. Julie was sitting on the edge of the bed and he was feeling if she had any fever, his hand on her forehead.

“Hmm… No fever, no soup.”

“But my throat tickles like when I’m sick.”

“It’s perfectly normal in the morning, _ma chérie_. Now, go and wake your uncle up and ask him to make you a big bowl of hot chocolate. You’ll see, it’ll get better!”

Éponine heard their daughter carefully sliding off the bed, then, little steps running.

“Be careful, don’t wake your brother up,” Enjolras warned again.

When she heard the door close, the mattress shifted again and she felt his breath just right down her neck.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re awake, traitor.” Then, a kiss, and many others along her jaw, and the hand going back where it ought to be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is ! I hope you enjoyed it. A big thanks again to Hiyas. I've annoyed her for hours about tiny details. She's a saint.


End file.
